


Normal Never Felt So Nice

by violenteer



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-05-30 09:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15094133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violenteer/pseuds/violenteer
Summary: Bar’s loud around them.





	1. wine

Bar’s loud around them. Noises are crowded, have no room to echo. Thoughts are similar; they sulk in their place, slipping and sliding among their peers in attempts to be clear and independent. Everything blends in settings like these. A kaleidoscope of this and that collide to make everything. Similarities in others become clearer. Hazy lust is drugging, half-lidded eyes and alluring smiles becoming the norm. 

Waylon’s drunk. He knows he’s drunk, but still, he likes his company. The tall guy who smiles privately and doesn’t say much seems to be biting everything but his lips. Hands are curled up on the business end of the bar, head pitched forward in careful composure. Hair falls into and out of his face if he’s speaking to Waylon or the tender. There’s a sparkle in his expression that means to say something, but Waylon isn’t sure what. 

He presses forward of his own accord and slips into the stranger’s personal space. Tall guy leans back, eyes widening a little. He looks around them, but it’s all movement, all everything, so quickly his attention is back on Waylon. 

Smiling, simmering, spiteful, Waylon yells, “You didn’t come here to look, did you?” 

There’s silence and then a complex expression that can’t easily be named. Waylon runs his hands through his own hair to keep from moving them up the stranger’s thighs. They’re broad, the stranger’s thighs. Broad and defined, musculature roaring beneath the slacks he wears. 

“No, right? I mean, I didn’t. I came here to meet someone. If you know what I mean.” A brief pause. “You want to fuck me, right?” 

The stranger’s odd sparkle glows more brightly than before. Tense posture slows up, loosens. Spine curves in to loom over his prey, his victim. The man he wants to take home (hopefully). 

No beats missed, he leans in and says into Waylon’s ear, “Yes, I want to fuck you darling. Would you let me?” 

They go home together. They touch each other. It’s messy, but only on one end. Eddie (the stranger’s name is Eddie) was nowhere near as gone as Waylon. They trade hand jobs and kiss lazily over top of the covers on Waylon’s bed. He tries to ride Eddie, but whenever he finds a rhythm he falls. Arms connect with a broad chest and bruising laughter bristles up from a blood-red throat. 

“You’re really… really hot.” Waylon confesses as he rubs his face against Eddie’s left pec.

Eddie bars his arms across Waylon’s back and rocks up to meet lazy, dripping friction. They were fast before, so they go slower now. Taking time that doesn’t really exist. Lingering in the nowhere-place of a shadow, or a responsibility forgotten. 

“Thank you.” He kisses into Waylon’s shoulder gently. “I think you’re beautiful.” 

Beautiful.


	2. honey

“I like honey in mine.” Eddie said, glancing over at Miles.

Waylon looked at him for a second, seemingly dumbfounded. Before he could stop himself, he spoke.

“Honey?” 

Eddie’s gaze flicked from right to left and now he was staring at Waylon. Not as curiously as he’d looked at Miles; more suspicious.

“Yes.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone liking honey in their coffee.” Waylon explained.

On the inside, it felt like there was sunshine radiating from his heart. 

“Suppose there’s always a first time.” Eddie responded, smiling a little.

“Is it any good?”

“I like it very much.” A pause. “You’re welcome to try, if you want.”

Waylon nodded after a minute of processing.

“If you don’t mind.”

Eddie tilted his head. “No. I don’t mind.”

There was a cough that came from the corner of the room and Waylon finally looked away, the spell momentarily broken. Miles was raising his eyebrows and holding two plastic cups full of coffee, one milkier than the other.

Eddie graciously took his own while Waylon was left to watch as the two of them took long drinks and he was left with his throat clicking, almost completely dry.

Over the rim of his cup Miles was communicating with Waylon silently. His eyes were squinted, questioning.

Waylon shrugged a little.

Honey in his coffee. Waylon wanted to remember that, for some reason.


End file.
